


when it happens

by spheeris1



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spheeris1/pseuds/spheeris1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabble-ish :: Piper POV :: years down the line :: "But when it happens, when it actually fucking happens, Piper is 49 years old and her birthday is right about the corner and Alex Vause is somewhere over the edge of 50 and they are both standing here in the frozen section of this little grocery store."</p>
            </blockquote>





	when it happens

/ / /

When she imagines it, and she has on numerous occasions, it goes like this:

_...eyes meeting across a smoke-filled room, the bar too loud, and they purposely skirt around each other, they are far too old for games now but these habits die so very hard, don't they..._

But when it happens, when it actually fucking happens, Piper is 49 years old and her birthday is right about the corner and Alex Vause is somewhere over the edge of 50 and they are both standing here in the frozen section of this little grocery store.

Piper and her hemp bag filled with organic this-and-that.  
Alex and a bottle of wine laid sideways in a forest-green basket.

/ / /

They didn't talk in prison when Alex returned, not really; they fought (staring and seething and the torturous pull of want that never seemed to go away) and then they ignored each other until Piper got out.

And that was that.

She didn't try to pack it all away, like a bad meal, she wrote it all down and she tried to turn her thoughts into a book – it didn't work out, though one friend of a friend of an editor at Doubleday said that it ' _just wasn't the right time for some socio-politcal exposé of the prison system._ '

But she didn't pack it all away, there were no more invisible women – herself least of all – and she ended up doing little articles for tiny papers and she spoke to advocate groups and one day, she ran into Larry – Larry, still boyish even with crow's feet, ring on his fourth finger – and he said he read one of her pieces and he liked it.

They talked like strangers who knew way too much about each other.

He said to call them sometime (“ _Polly misses you, a lot..._ ”) and Piper said that she might.

She never did, though.

/ / /

“I'm getting ice-cream. You?”

Alex was always good at sounding nonchalant – certain things will never change – and that green gaze runs lazily over Piper's features before shifting to the glass case, darting to and fro over those sweet choices.

“Talenti. The sea-salt caramel is pretty amazing.”

Piper can be nonchalant, too, and she watches as Alex scans the shelves quietly, only opening the door once something of interest has been found – and then a pint of gelato, sea-salt caramel gelato to be exact, is being held right in front of her face.

“Found it.”

Alex's voice is still the same, still rough and warm, and Piper cannot explain the way it makes her feel to hear it after so damn long – maybe like crying, maybe like laughing – but she wraps her fingers around this frost-covered dessert and chooses to smile instead, to smile like she really means it because she truly does, and the question just tumbles out of Piper's lips without a second thought.

“What are you doing a week from now?”

/ / /

There are shadows that they avoid, for tonight anyway, and Alex slides a shot of something towards Piper with a small grin attached to the gesture.

“And one to grow on, kid.”

Piper is pleasantly buzzed, legs outstretched on this booth seat, and she throws the shot back and she doesn't ask what it is – only mentions that it burns a bit, chuckling over the heat – and Alex orders another beer for herself.

There are failures that they bypass, for tonight anyway, and it is Piper's birthday and whatever it is they are talking about – she thinks it might be a book that someone wrote at some point – is slowly pulling them closer, the two of them leaning against the table, hands fluttering as they speak, and Alex is rolling her eyes – in a nice way, in a really good way – over something that Piper is saying and it just seems so natural, so very right, to reach out and press a palm to Alex's cheek.

And there are tragedies that they shove aside.

For tonight anyway.

/ / /

It is gorgeous and it is tender and it is heartbreaking and it is far too much to grasp in one go and so Piper catches her breath before she rolls over, before she kisses Alex – from sternum to chin to those lips and back down again – and it is fascinating all the ways in which they do not stumble, do not get lost - hips and thighs and bellies matching up like missing puzzle pieces - and every time that Alex moans, Piper can feel it on her tongue and this is so good, so good that it almost hurts.

/ / /

When she imagines it...

“Call me. If you want to.”

...and she has on numerous occasions, it goes like this, it always goes like this.

But there are silver strands hiding within Alex's black hair and Piper's muscles are surprisingly sore this morning and Alex gently pulls her into a long-armed embrace – smelling of leather and of Piper's bedsheets – and when it happens, when it actually fucking happens...

“I want to.”

...Piper is 50 years old and Alex Vause is holding her and they can both feel it, even after all these years, they can feel it and it is so good.

So good that it almost hurts.

/ / /

**(end)**

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know. just listen to 'hounds of love' by kate bush.


End file.
